


build a house out of you

by sage (kiwi37)



Series: SASO 2016 [5]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwi37/pseuds/sage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Self-esteem is a tricky beast, and Yamaguchi sometimes has trouble remembering what it is that Tsukishima sees in him. Tsukishima does not appreciate this.</p>
<p>Fill for SASO 2016 Bonus Round 4</p>
            </blockquote>





	build a house out of you

**Author's Note:**

> this was a really really gorgeous prompt, thank you so much for posting it, prompter! i hope this fill suits what you had in mind!
> 
> (title was taken from the prompt, which can be found [here]())

 Tadashi is staring at him, unhappy and defeated. It makes Kei feel ill in a way that few things ever have, young, sick to his stomach like looking at his brother across the stands from him, like having the rug ripped out from under his feet.

“What?” he says, hackles up, eyes narrowing. “Isn't that what I’m supposed to say? Why are you looking at me like that?” On the other side of the bed, Tadashi opens his mouth, closes it again, bites his lip. Kei thinks he really might vomit.

“It’s not—it’s just. I mean, I feel the same, Tsukki, I really do,” Tadashi hedges. And Kei thought _he_ was bad at this, really. “But—you could do so much better, you know? I can't help thinking that, that there’s someone out there who could really keep up with you, really deserves you, and I hate the idea of you holding yourself back on my account. It’s just not fair to you, you know?”

Tadashi looks up from where he’s been fiddling with a loose thread at the edge of the sheets, meeting Kei’s eyes, awkward and apologetic. Kei looks at him for a long moment, numb, hearing the words reverberating in his skull, empty like an echo chamber. He rolls over, stands up, picks up his clothes and starts putting them on. He can't stay here, not now—under the layer of calm that’s settled in his chest, he can feel the anger bubbling, churning together with the sick feeling still heavy in the pit of his stomach, and he has to leave before Tadashi can find a way to say something even stupider.

He hears Tadashi sit up behind him, but it feels like he’s a long way off. “Ts-Tsukki? Tsukki, where are you going?”

He can't bring himself to answer, can't remember how to unclench his teeth and pry his lips apart and wouldn't have anything to say if he could. He doesn't know where he’s going. Away. Somewhere where it’s safe to let his blood boil, to grieve. His feet are carrying him out the door without his brain making any conscious decisions about it, his body acting on instinct. Fight or flight. Survive.

There’s a hand on his wrist as he’s passing through the doorway, though, and it feels like a violation, sends him whipping around to face whatever is foolish enough to try and corner a wounded animal. He doesn't know what his face looks like, but Tadashi’s eyes go wide and he pales under his tan and his freckles.

“Tsukki…? What—what’s wrong? Please talk to me, I—I’m sorry for whatever I said, I don't—“

Kei snatches his hand back. “You don't what? You don't _know_? Do you not listen to yourself when you talk, or are you really that fucking dense, Tadashi?” Silence. “What do you think you’re saying when you tell me that? What makes you think that I want to hear you tell me that everything I’ve built my life on is worthless, that _I could do better?_ Do you think you’re _saving_ me heartache, telling me that I’ve chosen poorly, that my feelings don't matter because—because what? I could find someone who gets perfect grades and does well in extracurriculars? Is _that_ what you think of me, Tadashi?”

He’s not speaking loudly, but Tadashi recoils. “That’s—that’s not what I meant, Tsukki, I….” He looks small, wounded. It reminds Kei of how they first met, and all of the anger goes out of him at once, shoulders slumping until he’s nothing but tired and sad.

“I know it’s not, Tadashi, but—this isn't a charity case, okay? I’m not that stupid, and I don't think you are, either. There’s a reason I’m here.” For a long minute, Tadashi doesn't say anything, staring at the cold wooden floor beneath their bare feet, head bowed so that Kei is left trying to interpret a dark curtain of coarse, familiar hair.

“…I guess I just don't know what the reason _is_ , Tsukki,” he says finally, voice soft and rough. There’s another silence, and Kei tips his head back, looks to the plain white ceiling of Tadashi’s apartment like it might tell him what the right thing to do is.

“Okay.” At the edge of his vision, he catches movement, Tadashi’s head lifting just a little.

“Okay…?”

Kei reaches out, taking Tadashi’s wrist in his hand. He can feel the pulse beating there, a little too fast, matching his own. It grounds him, just like Tadashi always does, and Kei wonders how Tadashi doesn't know that by now. “Okay. Come here.”

He pulls Tadashi with him, out of the hallway and back into his bedroom. Dropping Tadashi’s hand, he starts taking his clothes off again, dropping them back on the floor.

“You, too,” he says, glancing over his shoulder to where Tadashi is watching him, uncertain. He follows Kei’s instruction, though, undoing the button of his hastily thrown-on jeans and letting them drop to the floor where they had been before he had sprung out of bed to chase Kei.

“Get back in bed,” Kei tells him, and Tadashi obeys that order, too, watching Kei curiously, face a little flushed. Climbing in after him, Kei pulls the blanket up around their hips and settles on his side to face Tadashi, mirroring their positions earlier.

“Okay. I don't love you.” Tadashi flinches a little, his face falling, but he nods. “I like you, though. I like your freckles and the callouses on your hands and your smile. And I respect you. You’re the hardest working person I know—much harder working than me.” Tadashi opens his mouth to object, but Kei cuts him off.

“I admire how much you care, and how passionate you are. I appreciate your sense of humor, and all of the things that you do for me. I appreciate that you pack a lunch for me every day, and that you’ve shown me that talent or intelligence doesn't make me better than anyone else. I appreciate that you make me laugh, and that you yell at me when I’ve got my head so far up my ass I’ve forgotten what sunlight looks like.” That gets a snicker out of Tadashi, at least, which is better than nothing.

“I appreciate that you’ve stuck with me for so long, and that you defend me even when I probably don't deserve it. I don't like thinking about who I would be if I had never met you.” He doesn’t look away from Tadashi’s face, even though Tadashi is blushing all the way down his neck now, eyes averted. Kei reaches out to find Tadashi’s wrist again, to feel his pulse. Both of their hearts are pounding again, not in unison but at the same tempo, and it gives him the strength to push past the urge to keep all of this to himself, locked away in his chest where it’s safe.

“I care about you, too, and I want you to be happy. I want you to like yourself as much as I like you, and I want to make sure you’re eating regularly and that you remember to take a bath at night. I miss you when I don't see you every day. I like helping you with your homework because it means I’m doing something for you, too. I like having sex with you, and I want to make you feel as hot as you are. I want to move into your apartment so I can sleep next to you every night. I want to share my music with you and listen to you talk about your favorite TV shows.” He pauses, shakes Tadashi’s arm to get his attention. “Do you really think I can do better than that?”

Tadashi looks at him, finally, with an expression on his face that Kei doesn't know how to read, eyebrows pinched and pulled up at the center, mouth twisted. “I can't really say that I get it, Tsukki, but—but I guess that sounds pretty good.” Kei sighs as the tension leaves his shoulders and smiles at him, finally, tired but fond. He slides his hand down Tadashi’s wrist to lace their fingers together.

“I think so, too.”


End file.
